Your practice reeks of death. You've been paid under the table to do horrendous things... and even worse things for free. It feels inevitable that something would notice and taken an interest in you. To your dismay, Archangel Michael has taken it upon himself to handle you.
Having an angel in your practice, you had simply assumed the signs were remnants of all the times you had cut your patient's wings or simply the glow of having him around. It didn't occur to you what was going on until it was too late. There stood Archangel Michael in your office with his sword at the ready.
You were exhausted. If anything it felt poetic. You didn't even hesitate to open your arms and offer yourself to him. As he raised his sword, you felt the first moment of peace you've felt in years.
That was until you heard something burst through your door like a raging storm.
"NO!" Your patient breaks in and jumps in front of you. His wings had forced their growth and taken full form. They're covered in blood and noticeably greyer than they've ever been.
"Don't you fucking touch him!" Your angel growls. You've never seen him so animalistic. Crazed, yes. But he's always been too weak to cause any actual damage. But now your doorway is busted, there's a ripped IV still in his arm, and his eyes are full of fiery.
Archangel Michael doesn't have time to stop himself before he swipes down and strikes the angel between you and him.
It feels as if time slows down as your patient falls. Already so beaten down and broken but resilient enough to protect you. His captor.
Archangel Michael looks full of terror as he realizes what he's done. Healing a hurt angel was simple. But healing an angel hurt by another angel was nearly impossible. Each stage of grief crosses Michael's face.
"...help him." Michael begrudgingly chokes out, his voice full of regret.
You're stunned at how things have turned. "...what?"
"HELP HIM! HURRY!" Michael snaps. You're the only doctor that's been experimenting with angel anatomy like this. You're the only one that can save him.
You dissociate and your body feels as if it moves on its own as you scoop him up and rush to the nearest room barking orders for help.
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